


reality calls

by HolyGuacomole



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, First Kiss, Identity Reveal, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7992205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyGuacomole/pseuds/HolyGuacomole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The shrill ring of a cell phone cut through the silent apartment, and even though the volume jarred Matt, it was a welcome distraction to the tense silence previously pervading the room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	reality calls

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on my [blog](http://lucreziaborgiaz.tumblr.com/post/137783606713/well-if-youre-feeling-matt-ships-rn-mattpeter-orblog), for [fantalaimon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fantalaimon/pseuds/fantalaimon)

The shrill ring of a cell phone cut through the silent apartment, and even though the volume jarred Matt, it was a welcome distraction to the tense silence previously pervading the room. 

Spiderman excused himself in disjointed phrases (his past wit leaving him all too quickly after the interruption), and removed his arm’s from their caged position around Matt, leaving him slumped against the wall, trying to process what had happened. 

They had kissed.

Matt had never been this impulsive, and he certainly had never entertained the idea of being physically intimate with another vigilante. Especially one so high-profile.

Matt could hear the slighter man moving away into the hallway, probably seeking some modicum of privacy, and the quick rustle of fabric rubbing over hair and away from his face. 

Spiderman had taken off his mask.

Matt fingered his own and the durable fabric moved with his minutely shaking finger-tips. Such a sign of trust.

He brought Spiderman into his home- had even reciprocated a heated kiss for God’s sake- but-

“Yeah, Aunt May, I’ll be home for breakfast.”

Matt shouldn’t be listening; the other man was whispering for a reason.

“Yeah, this study-session just went on too long, and Harry said it was okay to crash.”

Study-session?

“Uh-huh, I’ll make sure Harry comes in too. We’ll both need your pancakes if we’re gonna ace that history test.”

Matt’s hand fell away from his mask so fast it slammed into his coffee table, and he heard Spiderman’s heart quicken in surprise. Matt straightened up, almost woodenly, growing tenser as the other hero bid a quick apology and stumbled back out of the hallway.

His mask was still off, but that offered little to Matt as he scrutinized more intensely.

“Are you okay?” A light voice asked, unobscured by the fabric, but there was no tremble and the tone was clear. There was a strong, musky sweat clinging to his skin, seeping through the costume, and under it Matt could smell a light layer of deodorant. Strong heart-beat; mint mouth-wash; blood from a small cut near his temple and mixing unpleasantly with the green apple conditioner in his hair.

Anxiety slowly oozed from his pores at Matt’s frigid stature and non-response. “I can leave if-,”

“How old are you?”

Spiderman clicked his mouth closed, body jerking as if Matt had slugged him in the stomach, and he pulled his mask back over his face in a last-ditch attempt for security.

The younger vigilante probably appeared as young as Matt feared he did.

Fuck.

“I can leave.”

Spiderman rushed past, their shoulders brushing, and Matt wanted to grab him. Stop him somehow from leaving. Demand why a kid was sticking his head deep into the dirt of this thankless city.

“I-,” Spiderman was at the top of the stair-case, hand hesitantly gripping the roof’s doorknob. “I’m eighteen, so it’s not like-!”

“You’re so young.” Matt crumpled under the kid’s stuttering defense, suddenly too overcome to deal with his life, and collapsed onto his couch. The faux leather groaned at the impact.

Spiderman squared his frame, seeming to think bigger is better, and braced his hands on the railing. “I’m old enough.”

“That’s what’s so fucked up.”

A quiet huff whistled down, but Matt understood the vulnerability hiding underneath the indignant act. He clutched his face with weak fingers, middle ones absently tracing the horns.

And he took it off.


End file.
